Past, Present, Future Lives

There is a theory regarding reincarnation, which states that anyone significant to a person in this life has been significant to him in all his previous lives as well. And each person will hold the same sort of role in every life -- a lover will always be a lover; a friend always a friend.

I think that's pretty cool. It means we find each other, against all odds, because we need to. And we need to without even realizing it. We're drawn to each other over and over again because we simply cannot live without each other.

While I don't know if I believe in reincarnation, I'm certainly open to the idea of it. And this theory explains how we can meet people and simply know, at our core, that they are meant to be a part of our lives. That's happened to me on a few occasions. Each time, it astounds me... and it makes me grateful to be found. Again.

Immortal Souls

I've known you for a hundred years
And still one hundred more

In lives lived through a looking glass
On planes that came before

On rocky shores of wild grey seas

We gazed to northern skies
Bands of brilliance - color and light
Reflected in your eyes

In time long gone you touched my cheek

Spoke words that seared my heart
You told me I would always know
When joined came from apart

Our souls entwined, safe, immortal

Tethered to solid ground

I saw your face and heard your words

And knew that I'd been found

 

On the threshold, past and present

Reach for one another

Bold, instinctive, sure, familiar

Lover, friend, or brother

 

I've known you for a hundred years

And still one hundred more
Our future written in the past
Walk with me through the door

Deep Water

Have you ever had a conversation that suddenly, without any warning, illuminated something about yourself -- something you'd been doing or causing or creating, without even fully realizing it -- and illuminated it so clearly, you felt like a complete and utter idiot when you saw it?

That just happened to me.

I am on a perpetual path of self-discovery but I've realized there are things about myself I simply don't want to acknowledge... because then I'd have to make a choice (gah!) to either deal with them... or ignore them.

And dealing with them would be hard.

And ignoring them would make me feel like a failure and quite the opposite of self-discovered.

Self-hidden?

Whatever. You know what I mean.

You're curious, aren't you?

OK, for the last couple of years, I have been finding myself attracted to men who are unavailable -- whether it's because they live too far way, or they're emotionally or psychologically not ready for real, grown-up relationships, or their life or work or family situations won't permit them to enter into relationships.

Simply put, they are not free.

And that? For me?

Is safe.

I don't have to risk.

Anything.

Except time. And we all know there is precious little of that in anyone's life.

I never have to really try. I never really get hurt. But I never really experience the joy that comes with true intimacy either.

Oh, I get the benefit of the attention, from a distance... the flattery... the comfortable (and sometimes exciting) repartee...

But that's not tangible... it's not tactile...

And it's not enough.

Now I have to work out why I do this. I know part of the story, which is about someone else and the intense desire to avoid hurting someone I care deeply about... but I know it's only part. There is more to my reluctance (fear?) than I'm acknowledging. 

More self-discovery is in order, methinks.

It's time to get down off the high ground; it's time to get wet; it's time to surrender to the current...

And swim.

Roses Are Red...

I'm not a poet. Never have been. I've always wished I could write poetry (and understand it) but it's not what I do. My writing style is much more straightforward... conversational (as you all know).

But I've been spending time with a poet -- a poet whose words and style are... affecting. I've been affected. And inspired. Doesn't make it good, mind you... just motivated :)

Ocean

Your words embrace my spirit as the sea embraces the shore
And, like silver-sheened boughs of driftwood washed aground to bleach in the sun
Answers are left  behind, on the littoral of my Self
Questions, too – shards of blue-green sea glass, polished smooth by salt and sand
And shell fragments, jagged and rough, cruel to the touch

Your word waves wash over me, cool and gentle
Soothing relief from the harsh glare of criticism and judgment
And they crash, roiling and unsettled, pulled from the deep parts of you
Eroding beliefs etched with sandy fingers near the water’s edge
Far enough, I thought, from the rising tide

You are the rising tide
And I, having played too long in castles built on crumbling foundations
Am caught unawares
I must decide
To clamber inelegantly to higher, solid ground, safe and dry

Or to surrender to the current
And swim

Where Have All the Flowers... er... Bloggers Gone?

I've just had a romp around Bloggyland, to see how many of my old friends are still out and about. There are a few (yay!) and I poked around to have a catch up on their pages, but most have left the big B. Sniff. It made me feel sad. I don't know why I expected people to stick around when I didn't stick around. Mighty double-standard-ish of me, eh? Hoping against hope, I guess. Well, now I'm hoping they are all out there living their wonderful lives, happy and healthy... and I'm hoping they check back in every now and then and find me and think, "Yay! Diane is still out there in Bloggyland!" And I hope I can find some new, as-wonderful bloggy friends this go-round.

I'm betting I can.

After all, Bloggyland is a pretty wonderful place...

Formal Introductions...

About 15 minutes before the end of the Friday workday, I got a call from my doc with the results of my recent PET scan. There is that moment, when she identifies herself on the phone, where my heart drops into my shoes and I'm about 70% scared to hear what she has to say and 30% desperate to hear it. But hear it I must. And I did. And it was not bad news. Not bad at all.

The scan was done to get a baseline, to see if there are any "hot spots" that might indicate treatment is necessary immediately, and to find out exactly where the cancer is located. They knew, of course, that the lymph nodes in my neck were invaded, as that's where I had a biopsy done. They were hoping the nodes in my abdomen might have looked messy on the last scan because of the nasty infection that landed me in the hospital... but no go; the cancer is there, too. And they needed to find out if the nodes between my neck and gut are also affected. They are. So it's everywhere. Blech.

However...

The nodes in my neck and abdomen don't look worse than they did a couple of months ago. There have been no changes. And the ones in between aren't "alarming" in any way. That means the cancer's not growing... or it's growing so slowly that it's not too concerning yet.

Yay me!

So, since I feel perfectly fine and everything looks OK, the plan is to wait 3 months... then I go back in for blood work, an exam, and possibly another scan.

Also? No treatment.

Yet.

The doc was quick to let me know that if anything changes in the way I feel, I need to get back in there. And although this type of cancer typically moves very slowly and can lie dormant for years, it can become aggressive.

And that? Means I can never rest completely easy. It will always be with me. Always. It will never go away. It will likely never go into remission and, on the off chance it does, it will come back. Treatment will simply set the disease back in time but it will never eradicate it.

On one hand, that sucks. Knowing you have this ugly little poison in your body for the rest of your life doesn't do much to make you feel all warm and fuzzy, you know? On the other, it provides for a certain level of comfort. Well, OK, comfort might not be the right word. But it provides for consistency... and beyond waiting to find out if the growth speed has increased, it means I won't be sitting here wondering if it's going to go away/come back/kill me tomorrow. And honestly? That's a wee bit comfortable.

So this cancer has officially become my new best "friend." If it has to be with me all the time, if I have to get used to living with it, then I figure I'd better make some peace with it. Or at least learn to co-exist. I've been calling it "Rat Bastard," and while that might be fitting, it seems rather... aggressive. So I'm going to give it a new name.

I'm thinking of "Myrtle."

What do you think?

I envision friends asking, "So, how is Myrtle these days?" And I can reply, "You know, she's been quiet," or "Well, she's being a bit pissy right now," or "Man, I want to bitch-slap that wench!"

I like it.

Myrtle it is.

So, everyone, this is Myrtle. Myrtle, this is everyone. Play nice.

I Won't Give Up...

So, I spent the latter part of this afternoon and early this evening being angry and upset. Dealing with this whole cancer mess without insurance has been frustrating. Beyond frustrating. It makes me want to kick things... and poke people with sticks. Sharp sticks. Not random people, mind you, but the people in charge of our for-profit sickcare system ('cause it is SO not healthcare).

Anyway, I stomped around and grumbled and whined and even cried a bit today... it had to do with the whole pre-existing condition crap, but really, that's neither here nor there. All that matters is that I was mad. And you know how when you're mad at something you can't actually poke with a stick, you take it out on the people around you? Well, I really didn't want to do that. So I took a deep breath, dragged my girl away from Dr. Who, and went out for a little Mexican (served by the big Mexican who flirts shamelessly with me [for tips, I'm certain, but hey, whatevs]).

While we were having dinner, we were talking about goals we'd like to accomplish in the next year. Ryan's involved swimming and learning to skateboard. And as I was talking to her, I realized that I have a lot of goals. An awful lot. And I realized that I've been setting them and making plans to accomplish them without even thinking about the cancer and how it could affect them.

I'm living my life.

And that's how it should be. 

So I decided to stop being mad. There is much I can't control, it's true, but this situation could be ever so much worse than it is. This cancer could be aggressive and mean, as so many of them are. I could be in immediate fear for my life; worried about leaving my daughter to grow up without me. But I'm not in fear or worried in those ways. And I'm so very grateful for that. I'm setting goals. I'm making plans.

I'm living my life.

In a couple of weeks, I start a class to learn to play the guitar I bought myself at Christmas (with a little unexpected Christmas bonus I decided to spend on moi). The guitar's name is Finn (which means 'fair stranger'... and it's definitely both of those). And after I get the basics down (which will be a challenge, as I'm completely devoid of any musical ability), I'm going to learn to play Jason Mraz's I Won't Give Up. Because I crazy-love that song, that's why. And because I won't give up. I won't give in. I won't let the bastards win.

I'm living my life.

I won't give up.

Time Flies...

My girl just turned 14. I don't know how it's possible, but she did. When I started this blog, she was 8. A third grader. She's getting ready to start high school. HIGH SCHOOL, people! I can't even wrap my head around that. And? She's so cool. She really is. She's crazy-smart... she's funny as hell... she's talented (a writer!)... she's so beautiful in the water... and on land. I love her. I like her. She makes me proud and so happy.

Remember what she looked like back then?

So cute.

 

Gap-toothed.

Here she is on our recent trip to NYC (her choice for summer vacation)...

And here...

Even Spiderman thinks she's cool.

And you should see her IN the pool!

So, are you feeling old yet?

Yeah. Join the club.

Threw Me For a Loop...

Helloooo out there... are you still around? Anyone? I'm hanging my head, as I've been a sucky bloggy-friend... gone, gone, gone from Bloggyland... and missing this place and you all. As I do.

Life has taken a few interesting turns of late. It's been busy, as usual... a new job (which I might have told you about)... then another new job (which I just started, and I'm finally not under-employed!)... swim season (this was my 6th summer with my little sinkers, who are growing up to be pretty big sinkers!)... a trip to NYC with my daughter (who is about to enter -- get ready for it -- high school!!! Can you believe it?!)... a trip to the hospital (and a near-aneurysm when I got the bill)... and a cancer diagnosis.

Yeah. That last bit sucked. Sucked big. It's not as terrible as it could be, though. It appears to be ("appears" being the operative word) a "slow-moving" cancer -- a lymphoma (Non-Hodgkin's Follicular Lymphoma, to be specific). I had a PET scan today, so they could get a baseline, identify any "hot spots," and determine when treatment might be necessary (hopefully not for a while!).

It threw me for a loop, let me tell you. I was in the hospital for an infection that resulted from an antibiotic I got for a kidney infection (please note that I'm starting a petition to make hospitals pay your bills if they give you medicine that makes you sick! Because, damn, that's just not fair, that's why!). While I was there, a few tests made them want to poke around some more (quite literally)... and a biopsy later, VOILA! Cancer.

Cancer is stupid, by the way.

Oh, and getting cancer when you don't have health insurance? Makes it even stupider. Er... more stupid. Er.

Note that my new job has great benefits. Between the health insurance (which should kick in before Christmas) and the whole 'Oh-no-you-don't-say-you-won't-cover-preexisting-conditions' clause in the ACA (which should kick in after the New Year), I should be OK for the future. I just have to sit down before I open the hospital bills 'til then. Oh, hell, who am I kidding? I'll have to sit down after, too. Our healthcare system? Nothing short of criminal. And one of my doctors actually said that out loud.

Anyhoo, as I say, the whole diagnosis thing threw me for a loop. Made me look at where I am... where I want to be... how I'm going to get there.

Yeah. I got nothin'.

Heh.

That's not true. I've got a list. And on that list is WRITE MORE! Right at the top. And this is where I write. Right here. In Bloggy-land (which tells you how much I've been writing lately).

So... I'm gonna try. I really am. I know you've heard that before. I know, I lie. I don't mean to. They're accidental lies. There is too such a thing. Shut up. Just read, 'k? If you read, I'll write. I will. Honest.

Pinky swear...

Imagine a Day...

It's been a day... a week... a month... a year... a decade... a lifetime of tragedies. They're local... national... global. They make many of us want to give up... to crawl into a dark space and hide. But we can't. We can't give up. We have to believe in the best of us. We have to imagine...

Imagine day when no one dies - not from hunger or abuse, from violence or drugs, from cancer or accidents or suicide or bombs of war.

Imagine a day when every human has enough food to eat, clean water to drink, and a warm bed to sleep in. Imagine every person getting a good-night kiss from someone who loves him - purely, unconditionally, without reservation.

Imagine a day when no one is bullied or raped; when every child has a forever home and a forever family; when hospitals and police stations sit quiet and empty; when military bases are peaceful - filled with the sounds of music and laughter.

Imagine a day when every pet is fed and loved; when no animal is tortured or exploited for human gain; when our oceans and fresh waters and air and soil are clean and healthy; when fields are abundant in rich soil and foods free from chemicals and corporate intervention.

Imagine a day when everyone is lucky enough to do what they love and love what they do; when people are paid fairly for what they do; when no one feels the need to wish away days of precious life simply to get a bit closer to the weekend.

Imagine a day when no man, woman, or child has to go through chemo, or radiation, surgery, or drug therapy; a day when no one feels the pain and longing of addiction or depression; when no babies are aborted; when every human wakes up thrilled for another glorious day -- thrilled just to be alive.

Imagine a day when oil and diamonds and weapons and drugs hold no more value than a speck of lint brushed from a woolen sweater; when a blade of grass, a single flower, or a pine tree in the forest is held in greater esteem, by everyone, than a luxury car, a Rolex, or a new iPhone.

Imagine a day when every person on Earth walks out of his front door and greets a stranger with a smile, a handshake, or a hug, and says, "What can I do for you today? How can I help?"

Imagine a day when every corporate and government official - every CEO, President, Prime Minister, and clergyman - opens his heart and his hands and says to the people, "How can I serve you? What do you need?" And then rolls up his sleeves, drops to his knees, and simply DOES.

Imagine a day when everyone takes responsibility for himself, with confidence, self-respect, and no excuses or apologies; without fear of what might be; without regret for what was or might have been.

Imagine a day when everyone - when every living thing - has enough, just enough, of everything necessary - truly necessary - for a healthy life. And imagine that enough is really ENOUGH.

Imagine a day when a person's skin color or religion or country of origin or sexual orientation simply does not matter. Imagine a day when we see each other for what we are - members of the HUMAN race. Imagine a day - just one day - when that is all that matters. Imagine just ONE day when we are all truly equal to one another.

Imagine it.

Just one day.

Can you?

It's hard, I know, but try.

Can you do it?

Yes?

Now, imagine two.

Remember...

Though I’ve done little in the way of blogging – and writing – this year, I felt compelled to do a year-end post. Maybe I’ll do a year-beginning post tomorrow, too! (Stranger things have happened!)

This year, like every year, I guess, was filled with ups and downs… not just for me, but for everyone, it seems. 2012 is ending up (not a moment too soon) on a sad note for much of the nation, with so much violence having taken place just recently, on the heels of the devastation caused by Hurricane Sandy. The economy, the animosity caused by the election, and the state of the world in general has all been so… overwhelming. It’s made the holidays, a time that’s difficult for me anyway, really, really difficult.

But tomorrow begins a new year… 2013. I’ve realized that there is little I can change about any of the things I mentioned above. But I can change the way I see the world… I can change the way I react to what happens in the world… I can. But there are a few things I have to remember in order to make this happen.

So 2013 will be, for me, 'The Year of Remembering.’

I will remember that there are more good people in the world than bad.

I will remember that living in anger and fear is a choice… a choice I will NOT make.

I will remember that what people think of me is none of my business.

I will remember that it’s not my job to try to change anyone’s mind about anything.

I will remember that being kind is more important than being right.

I will remember that when I criticize others, my own shortcomings are shining through.

I will remember that the people who love me are my family, even if they’re not related by blood.

I will remember that nothing worth having comes easily or quickly.

I will remember that my failures are lessons I need to learn in order to succeed.

I will remember that falling down is not nearly so important as getting back up again.

I will remember that what I put into Life is what I will get back.

I will remember that to receive good things, I have to open myself to them.

I will remember to love harder, laugh bigger, create more, connect in the most positive way I can with all the people around me, and to get daily doses of nature and literature and good, whole foods.

And…

 I will remember that this is the only life I’ll get, so I need to make the most of it!

Don't You Dare Jump

Facebook has this feature where it shows you comments your friends have made on their friends’ posts. I don’t know why they feel it’s necessary for you see what people are saying to each other (especially when you probably don’t even know the other person, and when it’s really none of your business), but they do.

Facebook has some boundary issues.

So, anyway, this morning, during my regular slog around, to have a look-see at what happened in Facebookland while I was asleepin’, I happened upon a post, put up by a friend of a friend, on which my friend had commented.

The original post was this:

“Sometimes I wonder... Maybe it would just be easier to blow my brains out, and be done with it... This slow, daily creep towards mortality is a real bore and pain in the ass.”

“This slow, daily creep towards mortality is a real bore and a pain in the ass.”

In the few seconds that passed after I read the post, about ninety-eleven things flashed through my head…

I thought of how sad this person’s life must be… how focused on himself he must be… how he needs to find a hobby… how I’d love to know how to slow my life down to a ‘creep’…

… and I thought of how angry that statement made me.

Now, I don’t know this person, except what I’ve heard from my friend. I know very little about his life or his circumstances or what he’s been through. I’m not passing judgment.

Well, I don’t think I am.

I might be.

I’ll live with it.

But I got mad. I got mad because I’ve lost several friends in the past two years – friends who were my age and younger – too young to leave this world. Some of my favorite people on the planet have been battling debilitating and deadly illnesses, and have prayed for just a few extra years, months, weeks, days, hours of Life to spend with the people they love. I’ve seen people I care about lose children – the most horrific loss I can fathom – and then pull themselves together and do something amazing and productive and positive in their child’s name and memory.

These are and were people who wouldn’t think of Life as being a “bore” or a “pain in the ass.” These are and were people who know just how precious and amazing Life is. These are and were people who would trade lives with Mr. Bored (Boring?) in a split second.

Life is not perfect. Life is painful and rotten sometimes. And yes, at times it’s boring and a pain in the ass. But it is still to be valued. And you owe it to Life – and yourself – to make the most of it.

Do you remember the television program, Welcome Back, Kotter? Though I only recall most shows in bits and pieces, there is one episode that has stuck with me for 30+ years.

It was about a plain girl – a girl no one noticed – named Mary. She felt that life wasn’t worth living; that she had nothing to live for. So she climbed out onto a ledge, intending to jump; to end her painful and boring existence. All the Sweathogs tried to talk her down, but it was Arnold Horshack, the misfit of all misfits, who succeeded.

He asked her what she loved… and each time she thought of something, like the roller coaster at Coney Island, the beach, and books, he said, “Then don’t jump.”

Eventually, she realized she had more than enough reasons not to jump. And she climbed back inside the school.

I was just about 13 when I saw that show and I learned a lesson that day that has stuck with me.

Life is made worth living by finding things you love. By doing things you love. By caring for the people you love. And if you have anything – anything at all – in your life that you love, Life is worth living. Period.

I understand that there are people with serious problems or illnesses (mental and physical), who, for whatever reason, can’t see a way past them and take their own lives. I’ve known those people. My heart aches for those people. This post isn’t about them.

This post is about Mr. Bored, who wrote, “Sometimes I wonder... Maybe it would just be easier to blow my brains out, and be done with it... This slow, daily creep towards mortality is a real bore and pain in the ass,” and people like him; people who simply refuse to open the gift they’ve been given.

Open your eyes, Mr. Bored. Open your heart. Open your mind. Open yourself. Get off your bored ass and do something. Start living. That “slow, daily creep” is going to be over before you know it and you will, as will we all, wind up looking back at the life you created – the life you deserved. Make it something worth looking back at.

And don't you dare jump.

I've Been Around the Block a Few Times...

I read a blog post (Single Dad Laughing… look him up… he’s good!) yesterday that gave me an idea for my own post. SDL wrote about the five things he’s learned in his 30-couple years on the planet. Well, I’ve been here 47 years and I’ve learned a few things, too… things like:

How, even if they call them ‘dried plums’ and infuse them with orange flavoring so they taste like candy, they’re still prunes and you should never, ever eat a whole bag in one sitting.

How I’ll never be so old that I won’t glue my fingers together when I use super glue.

How you should never, ever read the comments after any online news article, political or otherwise. Because they will make you lose all faith in and hope for humanity (and good grammar and spelling), that’s why.

Stuff like that. Good stuff, no?

I’ve learned other stuff, too… important stuff (not that the whole prune thing isn’t important. It is. Trust me on that one, people). I thought I’d share some of those things with you today.

So, as Oprah says, here’s what I know for sure…

This, too, shall pass. Nothing lasts forever. It’s true. Good things don’t, though we wish they could. Bad things don’t, though it feels like they do. Life is moving… even when you feel stuck. It’s still going on around you and it’ll take you along for the ride, whether you want to go or not. And that ride? Will be full of knocks and hills, bumps and thrills. Sometimes you’ll want to get off. Sometimes you’ll want to throw up. Sometimes you’ll scream for joy and wish so hard you could stay in that place – in that rush – forever. But you can’t. It will end. Because nothing lasts forever.

Until you learn the lesson, the lesson will keep popping up. Over and over and over. Until  you learn it.

Over and over.

Until. You. Learn. It.

And I don’t mean the No Child Left Behind sort of ‘learn it,’ where you simply just have to get it right on the test.  I mean ‘learn it,’ where it’s imprinted so deeply on your psyche, you’ll never forget it.

It’s the people around you that make Life worth living. It’s not the accomplishments or the adventures, and it is most certainly not the stuff. And people are great. But they will disappoint you. They will aggravate you, infuriate you, offend you, and make you want to live on a deserted island, far from anyone else on the planet.  And you? Will do the same to others. Because you’re a people, too, that’s why. But when you move past the disappointments, the aggravation, the anger, and the frustration, you’re left with the best – the caring, the humor, the camaraderie, the history, the empathy, the partners-in-crime, and the LOVE. And that? Is some good stuff.

You have to be happy on your own before you will ever be happy with anyone else. If you’re unhappy, and then someone comes along and makes you smile and love Life and think the sun shines out his butt, it will feel like that person is making you happy. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt (it shrank in the wash). But at some point you will realize that the sun? Shines out no one's butt. And eventually, no matter what that other person says or does, unless you’ve fixed what was making you unhappy in the first place, you’ll be back to that place, with or without them. You have to fix it. You’re the only one who can fix it.

Not everyone is going to like you. And there’s not a damned thing you can do about it. And it doesn’t matter how nice you are, how funny, how pretty, or how well you write or sing or make balloon animals.  Not everyone is going to like you. Period.  And that? Is OK. It really and truly is. So be kind. Be good. Be yourself. Don’t be a dick. And let the chips fall where they may.

Comparing yourself to other people is the most assured way to feel like crap. There will always people who have more than you do; who have accomplished more; who are prettier, thinner, more talented, etc. So stop it. And remember, someone, somewhere, is comparing herself to you… and falling short. Tell her to stop it, too.

Forgiveness is something you do for you, not the person who wronged you. Staying angry and holding onto grudges and hurt only holds you back. It robs you of happiness and peace and personal growth.  Forgive. Move on.

Helping someone in need is the quickest way to take your mind off your own troubles. It’s hard to focus on what you don’t have when you’re focused on someone else who has less. And it reminds you to be grateful for what you do have. And gratitude is absolutely, definitely, no-doubt-about-it, one-hundred-percent necessary for happiness.

When you have time to criticize other people, it means you’re not spending enough time working on your own life. Period. So shut up. And look in a mirror. And take care of you.

Life is short. It’s cliché, I know, but it became a cliché for a reason. Because it’s true, that’s why. Life is short. It’s crazy-short. It’s yesterday-I-was-16-and-now-I’m-middle-aged short. It’s I-thought-there-would-be-another-dance-with-my-dad-but-then-he-was-gone short. It’s how-did-my-baby-girl-turn-into-a-teenager-overnight short. It’s short. There will never be enough time to do what you want to do… or maybe even what you need to do… it’s SHORT. Get it? So you can’t waste time. You can’t wait for Life to get its shit together and be what you want it to be. Life isn’t working on your timetable. Life doesn’t care about your timetable. So you have to make it what you want. You have to do stuff – stuff that’s interesting and fun and makes you feel good. Make sure the people you love know you love them. Find your passions and go after them.  Find the things you believe in and stand up for them. Get a hobby. Find a job you don’t hate (because spending 8+ hours a day doing work that makes you miserable will suck the life out of you faster than anything) and work hard. Read good books. Be out in nature. Create something. Drink wine or tea or Yoo-hoo if it makes you happy. Do good. Help people or animals or the environment (or all of them).

Make sure that when there’s no more Life left, you’re not sitting on the couch wishing you’d done all those things.

DO THEM.

Because life is short.

There.

That’s it.

As my friend Mel says, that’s all I know.

So… what have YOU learned in your travels ‘round the block?

Have You Seen My Voice Anywhere?

Since I've come back to Blogland, I'm struggling to find my voice. I know it's there somewhere... I know I have things to write about... I just can't seem to locate them. Or when I do find something to write about, it just doesn't sound right... it doesn't sound like me.

Meh.

So, for today, I'm borrowing Mary Oliver's voice. I love me some Mary Oliver...

Here's to finding voices... and wings... xo

Oh, How I Wish It Had Been a Truck

For this week’s Writer’s Workshop at Mama's Losin' It, I chose the prompt:

Tell about a time your child embarrassed you in public.

 As an infant, my daughter Ryan was very chatty (and some things have never changed). She’d sit on my lap and tell long, animated stories, complete with extravagant hand gestures. Of course, at six-months-old, her words were unintelligible (I always say her first language was 'Ryanese'). That changed, however, at eight-months, when she uttered her first completely non-gibberish word. It wasn’t ‘mama’ or ‘dada,’ though… it was Tucker. Tucker was our dog. When she said his name, she was sitting in her high chair, tossing Cheerios at his head. At the sink, I whipped around, certain I was hearing things. Then she looked at me, pointed at him, and said it again, plain as day.

“Tucker!”

I nearly fell over. It certainly wasn’t the last time she would astonish me with her vocabulary. She has always had an affinity for words – especially big words – and, most often, she gets them right, both in context and pronunciation. Sometimes, though, her gaffes and mispronunciations are cause for giggles.

But not the time I’m going to tell you about.

There was no giggling that day.

Not by me, anyway.

She was about a year old. We were in Barnes and Noble – one of my favorite places on the planet. Because she wasn’t quite walking on her own yet (and because I didn’t want to re-shelve every book on the bottom two shelves of every aisle we were in), I was holding her. As we neared the children’s section, she got excited.

Very excited.

She was doing that baby-bounce thing very little ones do when they can’t contain their glee and pointing excitedly to a wooden cut-out hanging from the ceiling. It was Beatrix Potter’s Jeremy Fisher.

Remember Jeremy Fisher?

Cute little frog.

 Then, as clear as a bell, loud enough to be heard on the other side of the store, my sweet, angel-faced baby yelled,

“FUCK!”

I stopped short, praying it was a one-time outburst.

No such luck.

More bouncing. More pointing. More yelling.

Louder this time.

“FUCK! Mama! FUCK!”

Everyone within earshot had stopped by this time as well, and were craning their necks around and over shelves to see my sweet, angel-faced, utterly foul-mouthed baby.

By now, I was dropping the F-bomb, too… in my head. Out loud (and loudly), I said,

“Yes, Ryan, that IS a frog. Frrroooggg!”

“FUCK, Mama! FUCK!”

Indeed.

Mortified, still mumbling clearly useless drivel about frrrrooooogggggs, I bolted out of Barnes and Noble. Without buying a thing.

(Which might have been a first.)

For the record, she got truck right on the first try.

Go figure.

Faulty Memory

Have you ever remembered something from your childhood fondly, but then, when you revisited it as an adult, you wondered ‘what the hell was I thinking?!’

I had a moment like that a couple of weekends ago.

You know this year marks the 50^th anniversary of the movie, West Side Story, right? Well, it does. I remember seeing it when I was a kid. I loved it! The music, the dancing, the sweet, sweet story of star-crossed lovers…

I even sang There’s a Place for Us for a high school musical audition. I sang it badly, mind you, but my willingness to be humiliated in front of a room full of 15-18-year-olds is testament to how much I loved that song.

So, naturally, I wanted my daughter, who loves theater and musicals, to see this amazing, wonderful piece of cinema… I wanted to enrich her childhood, as mine had been enriched.

What the hell was I thinking?!

It was terrible. Really, really terrible.

First of all, it was about an hour too long. The acting was atrocious. The make-up, appalling. Some of the singing and dancing was good, but some, not so much. And the story? Good lord. How did I not remember how cheesy and ridiculous it was? And that it took place in 24 hours (which is how long the movie felt)?

I was reminded, however, the first time Tony told Maria he loved her, ten minutes after they met. My nearly-thirteen-year-old hollered at the screen (the first of several times), “You don’t even know each other! Stop it!”

She’s got some sense, that one does.

And I guarantee she won’t be showing West Side Story to her kid on its 80^th anniversary.

We'd have rather watched the cats.